


Major Crimes

by Molly



Category: The Sentinel
Genre: First Time, M/M, Slash, sentinel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-09-21
Updated: 2008-09-21
Packaged: 2017-10-02 00:42:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 18,145
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/825
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Molly/pseuds/Molly
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>In which Blair is much aggrieved at breakfast by Jim's response to his desperate confession, and a lot of stuff happens after that, and everybody lives happily ever after. </i></p>
            </blockquote>





	Major Crimes

**Levity**

There were many days when Detective James Ellison was pleased and proud to have Blair Sandburg, Anthropologist, as his friend and partner. There were even more days when he'd have been pleased and proud just to _have_ him.

Today was not one of them.

Today, in fact, just might be the day Jim became more of a threat to Blair than Blair was to himself, which was saying something. There was certainly no shortage of dire, violent fantasies in Jim's heart. The more he thought about Blair's hit-and-run at  
breakfast, the less inclined he felt to repress them.

Jim leaned back in his chair and forced himself to review everything that had happened that morning. His eyes lost their focus, the familiar images of the bullpen fading as the memory returned with crystalline clarity...

  
   


* * *

  
   


"Here's the thing, Jim," Blair said, his blue eyes intense. Jim settled back with a small internal grin, toying with his fork, breakfast ignored for the moment. There was something about seeing Sandburg so completely focused that Jim found oddly relaxing.  
He drew in the image, finding it both comforting and erotic. He wondered briefly if Blair would bring the same intensity to lovemaking that he did to his Sentinel research, and his grin widened. Probably not. The kid was totally obsessed.

Still, a guy could dream.

"What?" Jim prompted when his scrutiny was met with silence. Blair was beginning to look nervous, and just a little bit closed off. In the two years since they'd met and begun fine-tuning his senses, Jim had catalogued exactly five hundred and thirty-seven shadings of expression in his partner's eyes. This was one of his least favorite. It meant Blair was about to say something he didn't think Jim would like.

Blair visibly braced himself, and took a deep breath. "I want you," he said.

Jim dropped his fork.

A hundred thoughts raced through his mind as he bent over to pick it up. Most of them were images of Blair. Most of them didn't include clothing. "Sorry," Jim said after a moment. "I thought you just said 'I want you.'"

Blair nodded. "Yeah. I did. I do. More coffee?"

Jim stared at his roommate in disbelief. Coffee? I-want-you-would-you-like-more-coffee?! His life had just turned into a bizarre piece of performance art, and Blair was pouring coffee. It was surreal. Any second now his eggs were going to sink through his  
plate and merge with the table. A few seconds after that he'd wake up. Probably.

His senses numbed as he watched the steam rising from his mug. It was really quite beautiful. He could see the light reflecting off of each individual drop of moisture as it rose into the air. They were like stars, when he thought about it, drifting higher, bright even in daylight...

"Jim? Jim! Oh, come on, man, it's not _that_ bad, is it? Don't zone on me here, okay?"

A hand passed before his eyes, and Jim jerked back, cut off from the image that had nearly absorbed him. With a shake of his head, the steam was just steam. "Sorry," he said again as Blair moved away.

Blair's mouth was turned down in the frown Jim recognized as expression ten: The 'you're a jerk, Ellison' look, notable for its early emergence and frequent repetition. "That was _so_ not flattering," Blair complained, picking up his own plate and mug and carrying them into the kitchen.

"Sandburg -- "

"You know, there are women who would walk across broken glass to hear me say that."

"Key word there is 'women', Chief!" Blair had never shown the slightest interest in men -- Jim would've noticed. He'd been watching.

Closely.

Blair glanced up from washing his dishes, a flash of humor brightening his eyes. "The men would walk across broken women," he said, grinning.

Jim shook his head, very glad he'd been sitting down when this conversation went off track. Blair had probably planned it that way; he was good at that kind of thing. Jim suddenly found himself wondering what else Blair might be good at, and looked away.  
Too much information. "What am I supposed to do about this, Sandburg?"

"Do?" Blair blinked, frowning. "You're not supposed to do _anything_, Jim. I'm not hitting on you or anything. I am totally supportive of your choice to be exclusively heterosexual, man. You're straight, and I'm cool with that. Really. The only reason I  
'm telling you this is so you'll understand why I'm moving out. I didn't want you to think you'd offended me or hurt my feelings or anything. _Not_ that you haven't come close a few times," he added under his breath.

Jim never made it past 'moving out'. "You're _what_?"

"Too many syllables?" Blair said, smiling a little. "You gave me a week, Jim. I've been here for two years. It's about time I cut the apron strings, you know, got out on my own. Not that this --" his gesture encompassed both the loft and everything that  
had happened since he moved into it "--hasn't been great." Blair nodded emphatically, his expression earnest. "It has. Really. I just think it's time for us to take kind of a break from the whole togetherness aspect of our relationship, which as you've said many times, was supposed to be totally academic. Especially since I'm in love with you. I mean, correct me if I'm wrong, but you're thinking of that as a _bad_ thing, right? So I found myself a new place. I'm going to be staying with Rafe for a few weeks, just until --"

Jim felt slightly dazed by the light-speed conversation Blair seemed to be having with himself. His eyes widened in admiration. When did the kid _breathe_? When Blair's actual words finally penetrated, Jim's eyes widened even further. "Hey, back up a  
bit, Chief. Love? I thought we were talking about lust. Let's take a minute here to--"

"I think it's gonna take a lot more than a minute, Jim," Blair said. His eyes were both kind and sad. "We don't have that kind of time. I have to get to class, and you have to get to the station. It's for the best, you know? I read somewhere that conversations like this one should have a set time limit, so both parties can have a valid escape route when the pressure gets too high. I'll pick up the rest of my stuff this afternoon, and drop off the key, too. And look, Jim, you don't have to worry about t  
his thing affecting our friendship. Once I'm, you know, not looking at you every second of every day, it'll probably wear off."

Blair slung his backpack over one shoulder and was out the door, slamming it behind him.

Jim cursed and surged out of the chair, determined to catch Blair before he made it down to the street. He'd just made it to the door when Blair's parting remark sank in.

Instead of opening it, Jim leaned against the door and let it support the weight his legs suddenly couldn't. Eyes unfocused, breathing ragged, Jim shook his head slowly in confusion and no small amount of pain.

His voice was soft and very rough as he repeated the words that had cut him to the quick.

"Wear off...?"

  
   


* * *

  
   


It was his own fault.

That was what Jim decided as he pushed himself away from his desk and stood up to leave. He was a Sentinel. For god's sake, he was a _detective_. He should have known how Blair felt. Before Blair even knew, Jim should have been able to read the signs.  
If he hadn't been so wrapped up in hiding his _own_ feelings, he probably would have seen it weeks ago. He would have _done_ something about it.

A lot of somethings, most of which would have required lubrication.

But he hadn't, and it was over. Blair had been pretty clear about that. He'd started a relationship over breakfast and ended it before the dishes were cleared. 'I-want-you-I-love-you-I'm-leaving-goodbye.' From come-on to brush-off in two minutes flat.  
That had to be some kind of record-breaker, even for Blair.

_Terrific,_ Jim thought, shrugging into his jacket on the way to the elevator. _My first bisexual relationship. It lasted all of thirty seconds, was a total failure, and I didn't even get laid. Blair's right. Sometimes life really _sucks_._

And sometimes it hurt, but that was okay, too.

Jim didn't plan on suffering alone.

  
   


* * *

  
   


_Sometimes,_ Blair thought darkly, slogging along through a driving rain to reach the door of Rafe's apartment, _Life just really _sucks_._

There had been a part of him, albeit a small and quiet and vaguely embarrassed part, that had hoped for a little more from Jim that morning. No declarations of undying love or anything, he wasn't _that_ far gone, but something. A little spark of possibility. Some sign that the mere thought of Blair's affection didn't strike terror into Jim's straight-laced, macho little heart.

Instead, Jim had been shocked stupid, straight into a zone-out, and hadn't uttered a complete sentence for the rest of the conversation. All in all, it had done very little for Blair's already less-than-perfect ego. In fact, at the moment, his ego felt  
pretty much demolished.

_It wasn't a rejection,_ Blair counseled himself. _If Jim weren't the very definition of straight, you'd have to pry him off you with a crowbar._

_Yeah, right,_ his self answered back as he knocked loudly on the door of Cascade Court Apartments, #317. _Everybody wants a short, geeky, neurotic anthropologist for their very own. You're at the top of every Christmas list in town._

Christmas. Now there was a cheery thought. Bright lights, the ritual slaying of innocent coniferous beings, disgusting egg drinks laced liberally with alcohol, colorfully wrapped and be-ribboned displays of conspicuous consumption....

...and he was going to be sharing all of that with Rafe Davis, a man whose concept of what a home should be fell somewhere between Motel 6 and summer camp. A man who thought a good wine was what you tried when your girlfriend wouldn't put out. A man whose idea of fun had reached its full maturity at age five. Rafe still thought wedgies were the height of sophisticated humor, a notion of which Blair was planning to disabuse him using whatever degree of violence proved necessary.

The door opened, and Rafe's bulky silhouette loomed large against the light behind him. "Hey, Sandburg's here!" he yelled over his shoulder. "Hope you brought plenty of cash, kid," he said in a lower voice, lips stretched wide in a predatory grin. "I'm  
hot tonight."

Gods above, the _game_. Blair had forgotten all about it. Thursday night was poker night, and all of Major Crimes would be descending on Rafe's place for the event. Seven detectives with paychecks burning holes in their pockets, laughing and drinking and probably smoking, too. Male bonding at its best.

Maybe he could just sleep on the streets.

_Get a grip,_ Blair lectured himself firmly. _You can do this. You're an anthropologist. Maybe you'll get a paper out of it._

Blair stepped inside and froze, nearly overwhelmed by the thick, heady smell of cigars and alcohol and something else, something ungodly that could only be some cooking project gone tragically awry. Something that had to do with cheese and milk and fire.  
He closed his eyes, steeling himself against it, thankful he wasn't a Sentinel but wishing more than anything that the whole dial business would work for him anyway.

_I want to go home,_ he thought clearly, missing not just Jim at that moment but everything the two of them had built in the loft at 852 Prospect. For a dizzying moment, he even missed the House Rules. Rafe's place could certainly benefit from most of them.

A voice from behind him startled Blair out of his misery. "Hey, Chief," Jim said. "You're blocking traffic."

Blair spun around, his eyes widening.

Jim's arms were full, bags of junk food balancing precariously against his chest. Warm blue eyes held Blair's from just above the top of a brown paper sack brimming with cans of six different varieties of Pringles.

"You gonna let me in, Blair?" Jim said.

"Jim," Blair said urgently, his voice deep with relief. "If I were to pretend to be sick, would you take me home?"

"I thought you were moving out."

"Don't make me beg," Blair warned. "It's not pretty."

"I thought you couldn't stand being near me."

Blair swallowed once, hard. Jim wasn't letting him off the hook. "Turns out I can't stand the alternative, either," he admitted reluctantly.

"It's been ten hours," Jim said, beginning to smile. "You telling me it hasn't worn off yet?"

Blair looked down at his shoes, shaking his head. "I don't think it's going to, man," he said. "I think we're just going to have to deal with it."

"Uh-uh," Jim said. "No way."

Startled, Blair's head shot up. Jim never said 'no' to him; for a moment, he thought he must've misunderstood. "Jim?" he said, his voice rising an octave in surprise.

"Sorry, kid," Jim said, pushing past him to move down the hallway, into the cluttered, smoky interior of Rafe's apartment.

Blair stared after him, shock etched into every line of his stance. "Jim?" he said again, voice pitched for Sentinel hearing and edged with a touch of pain.

He had only a moment to wonder what was going on before Jim was back, his arms empty now. Blair found himself pressed against the door, Jim's body hard and strong against him. There was no mistaking the older man's arousal, nor the fire in his deep, blue eyes. Surprise and joy mingled as Jim's lips closed over his own; Blair's mouth opened instantly, deepening the kiss, straining forward, seeking a deeper union. The hot ridge of Jim's erection pressed into Blair's stomach, making him dizzy, making him  
sweat with heat and desire.

The first touch of Jim's tongue, sweeping across his, drove all strength from Blair's limbs. Every part of him screamed with need. Every muscle quivered with it. His reaction was instantaneous, mindless, arcing forward and devouring Jim's mouth, the line of his jaw, the tender skin at his throat, hands moving over the body that for so long had filled his nights with slick, erotic dreams and fast, hard rushes to cold release.

The intensity was blinding, and Blair gave himself over to it, body and soul.

When Jim pulled away, it was all Blair could do to stand.

"What...Jim?"

A hand came up and closed around Blair's jaw, forcing eye contact. "You with me, Sandburg?" Jim said, his own voice thick with the remnants of passion.

Blair nodded, confused.

"My heart," Jim said firmly, deadly calm, "is not a toy."

"Jim, I know, I--"

"Straighten your clothes," Jim said coldly, cutting him off clean. "People will talk."

Without another word, Jim turned and walked away from him.

Blair shivered.

The hallway was very, very cold.

  
   


* * *

  
   


**Gravity**

  
 

   


Guilt set in almost immediately. The kid had looked so forlorn.

_He acted with total disregard for my feelings,_ Jim reminded himself firmly. _He had it coming._

Jim sighed, running a hand over his cropped brown hair and looking once again toward the kitchen. Blair was still in there, his voice rising and falling with those of Rafe and Brown as the three men tried to salvage the smoking remains of the queso dip Rafe had started earlier in the evening. Blair was laughing, his voice full and light and deep all at once.

_What did he do, anyway? Sure, he ran out on me after breakfast. And yeah, he should've talked to me about all of that, should've given me a little credit. It's not like I ever acted like I'd hurt him or get rid of him or look down on him in any way for  
being bi, or gay, or whatever he is. Even if I were straight as a level myself, this would be something we could work through. He's my Guide, for god's sake. What was he thinking?_

Another sigh welled up in Jim's chest, and he looked toward the kitchen. He knew good and well Blair hadn't been thinking. Sandburg _felt_ a lot more than he _thought_, which was scary as hell, because he was fucking brilliant; if he got that way without half trying, god knew what he could do if he really put his back into it.

Blair's voice was a low murmur even to normal senses, smoother somehow than Rafe's or Brown's. It was that voice that was getting to Jim, because he could hear what was beneath it. No one else could; Jim heard it not because he was a Sentinel, but because he knew Blair like no one else in the world knew him. No one else, not even another Sentinel, could have picked up the strain within the laughter. No one else could have seen the tension behind those blue eyes back in that hallway, either, even if they'd known to look for it.

Jim had known to look, and he'd hated what he found. Hated even more that he was responsible for it, but damn it...

Blair had it coming. Didn't he?

With a twinge of guilt hastily shoved to the back of his mind, Jim tuned his hearing toward the kitchen.

  
   


* * *

  
   


"So Jim's just looking at Simon, right? He's as red as your shirt, Rafe, no lie. And Simon's trying _so_ hard not to laugh 'cause he knows Jim will flat out kill him if he does."

"Where were you, Hair-boy?"

Blair laughed, and leaned back against the wall. "That's Phone-boy to you, man," he said, grinning at Brown. "Jim told me to stay in the car and call for back-up, 'cause we didn't really know at first what we were going into, you know? So there I was."

"Yeah, you listen so well."

"Oh, I listened this time." Blair's eyes went round with carefully simulated innocence. "We're talking hardened criminals here. I'm just an observer."

Brown doubled over with laughter, one arm flailing for the counter so he could set his beer down without spilling it. Rafe threw him a towel, and Brown wiped his chin with it. "God, Sandburg. You lie like a trooper, you know that?"

One corner of Blair's lips quirked upwards. "Lotsa practice, big guy."

"So, what happened next?"

"Okay, so I'm there with the binoculars, listening in on the headset, and Simon trips the mike. He's standing so close to Jim I can hear every word, and I just know he did that on purpose. Simon's got a wild side."

"The side that's gonna pound you if he hears you calling him 'Simon'?"

"The very one. So Jim says, 'Simon -- I can't!' and Simon gives him the Look -- you know, the Look?"

Rafe and Brown shared a glance heavy with remembered dread, and Blair nodded. They knew the Look. After a moment of respectful silence, Blair continued. "Anyway, Jim just caves. He's looking at the guy, and the guy is looking at him. This idiot, he's  
_smirking_, which you guys know is _not_ the smartest thing for him to be doing at that point, and Jim takes a deep breath and he just _says_ it."

"You're kidding. He really said it?" Brown looked from his partner to Blair in surprise. "Ellison?"

"Jim Ellison, in the flesh. He just looks at this guy, this _mime_, with the black and white and the make up and all, and he says --"

"'You have the right to remain silent.'"

The line was delivered in the patented Jim Ellison laugh-and-I'll-kill-you tone -- by none other than Jim Ellison himself, leaning easily against the door jamb with a ghost of a smile on his lips and his thumbs hooked through his belt loops. Brown and Rafe lost it in spite of the danger, collapsing against the counter and knocking over Brown's abandoned beer. Jim rolled his eyes and stepped past the two laughing men. Blair quickly drew back against the opposite counter, giving his partner plenty of room  
to get by without any physical contact. Plucking the towel from Brown's hand, Jim sighed theatrically toward the ceiling and mopped up the spilled liquid.

"Don't you get tired of telling that story, kid?" Jim said, not looking in Blair's direction.

"Hey, the public demands it," Blair said lightly. "I supply."

Brown was nodding, still unable to speak. Recovering more quickly than his partner, Rafe jumped to Blair's defense. "I made him tell it, Ellison," he said, grinning. "Jay hadn't heard that one yet. Blair resisted, but...you know...he doesn't have the training we do, and..."

"Yeah," Brown gasped, eyes on the ceiling, "he's just...he's _only_...an observer..."

Rafe choked back a rude response to that, which rendered Brown practically helpless, and Blair couldn't help grinning. These were the guys who, just over a year ago, had treated him like some exotic but vaguely ridiculous bug who'd crawled out from under  
a particularly disgusting rock and into their midst. It'd taken a lot of work to win their respect. It'd taken a lot of courage and a lot of schmoozing. Aside from getting his Master's degree two years ago and Jenny Salinger's phone number just last month, it was the hardest thing he'd ever done.

"Well, I _am_," he said earnestly, letting his eyes go wide. It set them off all over again, and Blair's smile widened.

Jim's eyes found his while the other men were occupied with their hilarity. The quiet pride in those eyes brightened them, and Blair flushed pink under that calm regard. For just a moment, he forgot the hurt between them and just smiled back, content with his world. There wasn't a lot that could get between him and his Sentinel. Not for long, anyway. That was something he'd forgotten, somehow, in the weirdness that had taken over his life in the past few months. He and Jim were a team.

A slightly bizarre one...well, maybe more than slightly now, what with Jim kissing him senseless in Rafe's hallway and all, and what with Blair wanting him to do it again right now, not even caring about the coldness that'd come after that first one. Okay, very bizarre.

But still a team.

Then Jim's look changed. His eyes darkened, almost imperceptibly, and his gaze dropped a few inches, to Blair's lips.

Blair backed up a step, finding the wall behind him and jumping slightly at the unexpected barrier.

There was enough hunger in that stare to consume ten of him.

**.oO0Oo. **

"I need to consult with my partner for a moment about this little confidentiality problem," Jim said lightly, smiling at Rafe and Brown as they collected themselves. They glanced at Blair, eyebrows rising.

Never slow off the mark, Blair rolled his eyes melodramatically. "Go ahead. I'll yell if he tries to hurt me."

Brown slapped Blair on the shoulder as he passed him. "Yell loud, kid. We might not hear you over that stuff Banks calls music."

"I'll keep it in mind," Blair said.

Rafe stopped at Jim's side on his way out. "Don't fuck up, Ellison," Rafe said, too softly for Blair to hear him. Jim nodded slowly. He knew Blair wouldn't have said anything, so Rafe could only be talking about the partnership, maybe the friendship. The  
advice was good on a lot of levels, though, and Jim intended to take it. "Thanks, buddy," he said, slapping Rafe on the shoulder.

"Later, Sandburg," Rafe said to Blair.

And then they were alone.

Blair just looked at Jim, silent, waiting, and Jim tried on a smile for size. It felt awkward, caught somewhere between friendship and ... something he wasn't quite ready to name.

"Are you--"

"I'm fine." Blair kept nodding after the words were out, looking as if there might be more to say.

"But...?"

"But I'm confused as hell, Jim. What's up with you? What's up with _us_? And where'd you learn to kiss like that, anyhow?"

"In the military," Jim said, deadpan.

For a few seconds, he could see Blair buying it. Then that glint came into his eyes, and his head tilted just a bit, and the grin was back. The grin was, in fact, almost a leer. "I understand military instruction is very thorough," he said, voice soft as velvet.

"We're taught to be all we can be."

"I have _got_ to get my hands on some of those training films."

"Anything else you want to get your hands on, Blair?"

Jim watched his words sink in. The signs of arousal were not subtle. Blair's eyes darkened as they swept over Jim's body, and his heart rate soared. A flush stained cheeks slightly dusted with stubble. God, the man was beautiful. Jim's cock ached with  
sudden need, hard and ready.

One look, and the connection was forged in bright blue fire.

"Jim." The word was a sigh, born on a quick, rasping breath. Jim wanted that breath, wanted to swallow it, own it, feel it against his lips and tongue. He took a step forward, and then another, and when Blair's eyes offered only welcome, he closed the  
distance between them.

"Want you," Jim said, his own heart pounding fast in his ears as the heat from Blair's body washed over him. He leaned in, still not touching. He was almost afraid to touch; the need was that strong. He burned with it, roasted in it, reveled in it...  
and he saw it in Blair, too. Consuming him. "You want me, too. I can feel it."

"Yeah," Blair said. His hands moved up to frame Jim's face, then tightened, pulling him down. "Kiss me. Taste me, Jim." The last word was given over to Jim's lips, swallowed whole as Jim claimed Blair's mouth. His tongue swept over softening lips, demanding entry, then dove into the sweet, dark depths of the mouth that opened under his.

Taste. Strong, hot, it arced through him like lightning, something like cinnamon and musk. He'd never tried to imagine Blair's taste, never dared move that deeply into the fantasy, and he was glad. This was more than he could've dreamt on his own, more  
than he could've known to expect. The intimacy was overwhelming, more so even than before. This was mutual passion, mutual possession, marking both.

No pulling back from the edge this time. No retreat was possible. If not for the distant sounds of music and laughter, Jim would've taken Blair right there against the wall, plunged into him over and over until they both came, screaming. Until Jim's name was the only thought in Blair's mind and Jim's body the only solid force in Blair's world.

But the sounds were there, and once more, Jim pulled back. He shuddered with the effort of separation, all his will-power subsumed in that single herculean effort.

"No!" Blair said sharply, angling his head to follow the retreating lips and claim them once again. "Not this time, Ellison," he breathed against Jim's mouth. "My turn now." His arms moved up and twined around Jim's neck, surprisingly strong, locking their bodies together. The contact drew a moan from Jim, deep in his throat, primal. Every part of his body was sensitized to Blair's, and the sudden assault threatened to overwhelm him.

Jim wrenched his head up and gasped for breath, then gasped again as Blair's mouth fastened on his throat, tongue swirling madly over skin that was too ready for it. Teeth scraped against his neck, suction calling red warmth to the surface.

With a growl, Jim pushed Blair back hard against the wall, his excitement growing as Sandburg's eyes widened with shock. A moment later the shock blurred into hunger, and Blair ground his pelvis into Jim's, hissing with pleasure at the heated friction building between them. Jim's hips moved with Blair's, hard and fast. "This what you want?" he panted, feeling huge, feeling as if he'd explode with every sweep of tingling pressure. "Is this what you need from me?"

Rough hands peeled Blair's shirt up, and Jim dove down to suck a peaked nipple into his mouth. Blair arched against him, moaning low and continuously as Jim's heated tongue laved the sensitive nub. A hard nip brought a strangled moan from Blair's swollen lips; Jim answered in kind, the taste of his guide sweet and powerful in his mouth. "Yeah, babe," Blair said, holding Jim's head close, voice coming in ragged fragments. "More. Please. Don't stop...like that, yeah, oh god, Jim, yes....!"

He was going to do it. God, he was going to do it right there, he had no choice in the matter, it was inevitable. The danger was forgotten, all fear of discovery banished by Blair's pleas. Jim slid a hand between their bodies, over the rough denim of Blair's jeans, and stroked the rigid length of cock hidden beneath. "Like that?" he breathed into Blair's ear, flicking his tongue against the lobe in rhythm with his hand's caresses. "Does that feel good, Blair? Do you wish you were naked with me, under  
me, feeling my hand on you, bare?"

"Yes, oh god. Yes. Touch me. I want you, Jim, I need it, please..."

"Anything," Jim said. His voice was rough, wild. "Just anything, Blair..."

He slid down Blair's body, his hands everywhere, touching everything, eyes never leaving his lover's face. Curls streamed down either side of it, framing it, and blue eyes gleamed with heat from beneath the golden brown fall of hair. Jim's lips trailed  
down Blair's chest, over the wiry hairs, to the soft skin of his belly.

Muscles trembled beneath the smooth skin, a lush moan sounding from Blair's lips as Jim tongued his navel, tasting warm, sweet musk. Lower, his tongue found the snap of Blair's jeans as his hands worked restlessly over denim-clad hips, pulling them closer. The scent of Blair's heat was strongest here, even through the heavy cloth. Jim nuzzled into it, mouthing the solid length and feeling his own body taking fire from the sounds of pleasure and passion above him.

Strong, agile hands clutched at Jim's head, guiding him closer, running through the short hair. "God, Jim..."

"Yeah...?"

"You...god, you feel good, you feel fantastic, please, don't stop, Jim, that's...oh...like that, yeah, just like that..."

The voice was low, some small remnant of caution keeping the volume turned down as Blair's body heated up. Jim surged upward, filling his arms with Blair, opening his lover's mouth with something close to violence to reach the velvet warmth of his tongue. Finding it, he sucked it into his mouth, showing Blair what he wanted, what he needed, frenzied with a kind of desire he'd never known before.

Blair cooperated, tongue driving deep into Jim's mouth as his legs came up, thighs wrapping securely around Jim's body. Supported only by the wall and his hold on Jim, Blair was like an extension of the Sentinel's body, every sensation echoing between them with rising, maddening intensity.

Senses otherwise engaged, Jim didn't hear footsteps approaching the door to the kitchen. He didn't hear the door swing open. He didn't hear the soft exhalation of surprise that followed.

The sound of his Captain's voice took him completely by surprise.

"What the hell...?!"

"Simon!" Jim said. His voice was so deep with the remnants of shared passion that even Simon wouldn't be able to miss it. "Simon, listen, this is --"

The captain was already shaking his head. "Don't even, Ellison. Just don't even bother."

Jim went red as Blair's face went white, both men realizing at the same instant that their embrace was not yet a thing of the past. Carefully, Jim untwined Blair from his neck and waist and set him down, still within the circle of his arms.

"Okay, Simon," Jim said quietly, slowly bringing himself down from the endorphin spike Blair had provided and trying to sooth Blair's sudden shaking with a gentle hand in his hair. "It _is_ what it looks like, but--"

"Hey, Simon, what's taking so -- Oh, my god..."

Brown's voice trailed off into silence as his eyes widened. Rafe was right behind him, and Joel brought up the rear, complaining as he bumped into the stock-still figures in the doorway.

The complaint fell silent as his eyes took in the tender tableau holding everyone's attention.

Blair's shaking intensified, muffled noises rising up from where his head was pressed into Jim's chest. Concern displaced humiliation as Jim cupped Blair's chin and tilted it upwards.

Light glinted off of shining tears in the blue depths of his lover's eyes, and a protective rage boiled up in Jim's chest, pushing everything else away as he watched Blair struggle for breath.

"Hey, babe...sh...it's okay," Jim whispered, Sentinel-soft. "It's--"

The silent tremors were no longer contained; Blair's eyes were bright with helpless apology as he lost control.

Jim's eyes darkened again, hands tensing on his lover's arms as his anger was redirected.

The shaking was laughter, and after one long look into Jim's eyes, Blair was howling with it.

  
   


* * *

  
   


**Density**  


  
 

   


_Okay, Ellison, let's just run a little mental checklist here. You're horny as hell, you're holding your hysterical roommate by the arms instead of by the throat, which is what he really deserves or by the balls, which is what _you_ really _want_, and all of Major Crimes has just turned up to see what's going to happen next._

_No question. Next, I kill Blair Sandburg._

"Oh, man," Blair said when he could finally breathe again. It was criminal that someone Jim was so pissed off at could still be so utterly beautiful. "I am _so_ fucked."

"Oh, man," Rafe breathed at the same time. "Not in _my_ kitchen..."

A chuckle erupted from Brown's chest, followed by a sound that could only be the agonizing suicide of the rest of its clan as Jim's blue eyes locked onto his, unflinching. Just let him, let anybody say one word. One wrong word, and it would take a janitorial army to recover all the scattered bits of whoever uttered it. Jim wondered if it were possible to kill someone with a look. _What the hell. Worth a try._

"Sorry," Brown said, backpedaling. "I, um. Left something in the living room. I'll just--"

"Me, too," Joel said quickly.

Both of them were gone so fast Jim thought he could hear the subtle _bamf_ of air displacement in their wake. That left Rafe and Simon to deal with.

Rafe, Simon, and Blair.

"I am toast," Blair said softly. He closed his eyes, shoulders slumping in resignation. "Toast with _jam_."

"I'm not gonna kill you, Sandburg," Jim said evenly. _Not until we finish what we started here, anyway. And if what we started is any indication, that just may kill us both._ "You're not that lucky."

If anything, the kid looked even more miserable. Good. Served him right. Life as they knew it had just come to a screeching halt, and Blair thought it was hilarious. Let him sweat a little, it would do him some good. There was such a thing as decorum, for God's sake.

"Well, I guess that's the end of the pool," Simon said, clipping a cigar and holding it between his teeth. His tone was conversational, affable. His eyes were alight with humor as he leaned back against the refrigerator, displacing a couple of magnets and a calendar permanently opened to Miss July. "Who won, Rafe?"

"Rhonda, sir. She had a hundred on today."

Simon shook his head, wincing. "Do I want to know the odds?"

Rafe shrugged. "Poker night, Captain. Who knew?"

Jim's face had darkened and reddened until it was a shade most commonly associated with cardiac arrest. He took a step toward Simon with a glare that would've stopped any half-way intelligent bear in its tracks. He'd been so mad at so many people in such a short space of time that his mind was spinning, and his hands were ready to do violence on whatever target presented itself.

A smile drew wide creases in Simon's cheeks, and he switched the cigar from one side of his mouth to the other. "Problem, Ellison?"

"You _bet_ on us?" _Okay, Simon I can kill. I'll make it clean, in memory of our past friendship._

"Quite a sum, actually. My money was on last week, though, so my interest is purely academic."

Jim couldn't quite get his head around it. "You _bet_ on us." _A gun? No, traceable. Knife? Too messy. Maybe some sort of automobile accident..._

Rafe cleared his throat, and took a quick step back as Jim's gaze fell on him. "We all did," the younger man said from behind the relative safety of Simon's bulk.

"Wow, all of you?" Blair took a step closer to Rafe, lowering his voice. "What _were_ the odds?"

Jim turned on him. He wanted to be furious, but something about the mix of near-terminal embarrassment and scientific curiousity on the kid's face made it impossible. The best he could manage was irritation, and even that required more concentration than Jim was willing to spare. _Still think it's funny, do you? Laugh while you can, Sandburg._ "Wait for me in the truck," he said finally, focusing on a point somewhere over Blair's shoulder.

"Hey, Jim, look--"

"In the _truck_, Blair."

"Now, just wait--"

Jim's eyes swept down to Blair's again. "What part of 'in the truck' are you having problems with?"

Lips tightening around whatever he'd been planning to say, Blair developed a glare of his own and turned it on Jim. "I'm stayin'," he said, folding his arms across his chest.

Jim rolled his eyes toward the ceiling, and drew a deep breath. "No," he said, grabbing his partner by the arm and propelling him toward the living room. "We both go."

  
   


* * *

  
   


_Okay, I was safe when we were around the guys. Safety is good. Alone, I'm dead. I am a walking corpse._ Blair kept his eyes on the concrete as he walked to the truck behind Jim, hands stuffed deep into his pockets. The rain had slackened to a vague mist, damp and uncomfortable but at least not as brutal as before. Unlike the earlier downpour, this new wretchedness was pacing itself. It could last for hours. It fell from a bank of clouds that seemed to be hovering directly over Rafe's apartment complex; the sky above the western horizon was a wash of orange and deep red as nightfall approached from the east. _Damn thing's probably tracking me,_ Blair thought darkly. _The Gods of Angst are definitely looking down with pleasure on the wreck that is my life. Great job, boys. Keep up the good work. Thanks for the rain, nice touch. NOT._

Ahead of him, Jim leaned against the truck in the waning light, eyes lost in shadow as the sun set just beyond his shoulder. Blair was torn between a desperate longing to know what those shadows hid and a desperate need to flee the county, possibly the state.

Taking in the tense set of Jim's shoulders and the stony expression on his chiseled features, Blair hunched his shoulders again and crossed around to his side of the truck. _Possibly the country,_ he added to himself. _Possibly the planet._

Jim's voice, just a breath away from his ear, startled Blair out of his reverie. "You going to get in?"

"What? Oh." Blair gave his head a shake, eyes widening. _Cool. My own little zone-out. All the drawbacks of a Sentinel, none of the perks. It's great to be a Guide._ "I thought I'd let you kill me out here. Save cleaning costs for the truck."

"I'm not going to kill you," Jim said. His voice was soft. "I'm not even going to maim you."

Blair's eyebrows went up; Jim was very, very close. Close enough to touch, if Blair wanted, and God...he still did, even now. "I'm listening, but I'm not believing."

"I promise not to fold, spindle, or mutilate you."

"I'm also against stapling and having things affixed to me with paper clips."

"We can talk about your kinks at home, Sandburg."

That startled a quick bark of laughter out of Blair, and he glanced up at Jim with a reluctant grin. There it was again: That damn-everything-else, soul-deep connection that couldn't be denied. Jim's anger couldn't suborn it. Blair's worry couldn't obscure it. Their eyes met and Blair could almost see it, like a band of liquid, iron light running between them.

"I could never hurt you," Blair said, suddenly serious. "I just couldn't." He reached up and laid a gentle hand against Jim's cheek.

Jim let out a slow breath, and Blair moved his hand to feel its warmth flowing over his fingertips. He traced a tender pattern over the softness of Jim's mouth, catching his breath when a large hand grasped his and held it there for a long moment. A twist of long fingers and Blair's own were curled into his palm. Jim pressed a warm kiss against his knuckles.

Blair trembled. Something new was happening here, something that wasn't about sex, or about friendship, or about any of the other hundred crazy ties between them. It wasn't even precisely about love, though he could sense that flowing out of Jim's heart and into his with an intensity he had never before experienced.

It was about two people being a part of each other in every way that mattered, indivisible, and the power of it left Blair stunned and shaking. Weak and strong at the same time. _We're interdependent._ It wasn't news to him, but somehow it was a revelation all the same. _A whole greater than the sum of its parts. More, together, than we ever could be on our own._

"We've got to talk about this," he said.

Jim nodded slowly, his gaze unwavering. "Yes."

"You're not mad anymore." Blair lowered his hand, still linked with Jim's, fingers firmly intertwined.

"No."

"So, what happened?"

Jim smiled slightly, bemused. His eyes lingered on Blair's, calm and warm and blue as a high mountain twilight. "You looked at me."

//I'm always looking at you.// "Never stopped you before."

"You never looked at me like that before."

Blair laughed quietly, and his lips curled into a radiant smile. "I look at you like this all the time, Jim. You just never noticed."

"Maybe..." The word was whisper-soft. "Maybe." Jim shook his head and looked away for a moment, off over the mountains. The last traces of the sunset glowed in a thin line of fire against the horizon.

"Maybe...what, Jim?" Blair reached up again, his heart pounding so loudly the Sentinel had to hear it. Carefully, he turned Jim's face back to his.

Jim looked down into shining blue eyes. A single fingertip moved to trace a gentle line across Blair's brow.

"Maybe I didn't before," he said. "But I'm noticing now."

  
   


* * *

  
   


**Newton's First Law of Motion: Law of Inertia - When no net or resultant force acts upon it, a body at rest remains at rest and a body in motion continues to move in the same direction in a straight line with constant speed.  
**

  
 

   


With the last traces of afternoon sun slanting in through the clerestory windows, falling soft and warm into hazy silence, the loft was an alien landscape, foreign territory. Blair's gaze drifted aimlessly over the familiar furnishings, well-loved objects  
now imbued with a deep and abiding strangeness. Mere hours before, this place had been his home, sanctuary, a refuge from the world. Now that refuge was shattered, irrevocably changed by the weight of charged emotion hanging thick and heavy in the still  
air.

"I'm not carrying you across the threshold, Sandburg," Jim said from behind, startling Blair out of his thoughts. The trace of annoyance in Jim's voice was laced heavily with amusement; Blair stepped through the doorway, laughing, and -- just that easily  
\-- everything snapped back into place. The weirdness faded, replaced by a welcome sense of peace and belonging that eased over him like a warm, dry wind.

God, it was good to be home. It was almost embarrassing how glad he was to be back at the loft; he'd only been away a couple of hours, tops. There had been weeks he spent more time at the library than at home, nights he slept in his office preparing papers or exams deep into the early hours of morning, but none of that had hit him as hard as these long, rudderless hours thinking his time here was done.

He moved into the living room with his backpack hanging from one shoulder, the supple leather strap warm where he gripped it like a lifeline. Whatever had happened between Blair and Jim hadn't changed the fact that this was home, and that was something to  
be way thankful for, but everything else... everything else was up in the air, caught somewhere between love and lust and friendship, and the tangled implications of all three.

Just short of the coffee table, Blair stopped and turned slowly, looking out of the eyes of the man he'd been two years ago. This wasn't the place he'd begged his way into back then; the cold, dingy walls and sparse furnishings of that apartment had seemed, somehow, even less of a home than his warehouse had been. He'd asked Jim for a week, and when he finally saw the place, he'd started to wonder if he couldn't cut that in half by digging into his savings for first and last and a security deposit.

Only things had heated up then at the station, and the ape had gone...well, ape...and he had to fix up the place, and by that time it didn't really look so bad. Kind of nice, really, once he'd hauled a few afghans out of the linen closet, and bought a few  
throw pillows. Then there'd been the Lash case, and dealing with Brackett, and on, and on, until one day Blair looked around and found that he'd been living with Jim for like, a _year_. Jim had put up some French doors for him, just to give him a bit of  
privacy, and one remarkably silly weekend -- after Carolyn had called to snipe at Jim about something or other -- they'd painted the walls. Some of 'em, anyway -- a rich shade of dark green that Carolyn would've hated, or so Jim said, which was of course  
why Blair had insisted on it. The place wasn't Jim's anymore; it was _theirs_, together. Their home.

Home.

Blair turned to Jim, blue eyes seeking blue, unable to hide the depth of emotion rising like a tide in his heart. Unwilling even to try. The backpack slid off his shoulder, to the floor, and he took a step forward, his arms opening. And then Jim was with  
him, holding on to him like he'd never let go, and Blair found that he liked that idea quite a lot.

For long, quiet moments, it was easy to pretend none of it had happened. Blair hadn't declared himself, Jim hadn't wanted him, they'd never touched one another with desire. The shared embrace was born of the first and foremost bond between them, slowly expanding to encompass the newer, more turbulent connection. Their friendship eased the transition, forging a space of sanity and sense in a day that had seen way too little of either.

Muffled by the soft fabric of Jim's shirt and the warm curvature of his neck, Blair's voice was soft and thick with emotion. "I am just so...God, Jim. I'm so stunned by all of this. When I think of how much time we wasted, and how much longer it could've  
gone on...What if I'd never said anything? Would you have--?"

Jim nodded, his chin pressing into thick, soft curls as his arms tightened around Blair's shoulders. "Sooner or later," he said. "Probably later, though. Funny, the things you can get used to. It was...comfortable, in a way, to just quietly need you. I'd  
set a course, you know? Neatly avoiding anything that might push me close to the edge. If you hadn't said what you did -- it would've taken me a while to get to a place where I could act." Jim's breath was warm and moist against Blair's cheek. "I get a feeling like this was supposed to happen the way it did, though -- you know. The course has changed, yeah, but in a way we were always headed in this direction. Just...go with it. Don't tense up; we don't have to tackle it all at once."

"What if I want to?" Blair pulled back to look at Jim, meeting calm blue eyes seriously. "What if I want it -- you -- all at once?"

A slow, easy smile transformed Jim's face into a thing of beauty, filling his eyes with light. "It's not a race, Blair. No pressure, no rush. We can take our time with it--"

"What, two years isn't enough time?" Blair couldn't help answering Jim's smile, his heart speeding in his chest as his entire body responded to the warm gaze that touched his eyes, his hair, his lips. No pressure, Jim said, and Blair knew he meant it, but  
there was pressure there all the same. Blair could feel it rising inside him, a desire to touch and be touched that went beyond any physical passion he'd ever known. It felt good -- a little strange, a little unfamiliar, but still very, very good -- to be in Jim's arms. This, too, was home.

Jim's voice was soft, deep with something like awe. "Is that--?"

"How long I've loved you," Blair said, nodding. "It started right away, you know? Me in that silly lab coat, you yelling at me every time I turned around, but there was this look in your eyes every time they turned on me. Like you were going down with the  
ship, and there I was -- Blair Sandburg, Anthrogeek -- your last hope in the world. Man, you hated that." Blair smiled, remembering, lost in the past. "I wanted to make things right for you."

"You did." Jim nodded, his eyes never leaving Blair's. "Oh, you did.'

Feeling bright, feeling incandescent, Blair offered a sweet smile, more open than any look he'd ever bestowed on the man before him. "I know, man." So much hidden, so many half-truths and obfuscations had threaded through the fabric of their friendship --  
and they were being ripped free, one by one, cast a side, cast off. "I know. And it's the best thing I've ever done." Blair leaned forward, until his forehead rested against Jim's shoulder. His eyes closed, and he breathed deep, Jim's familiar scent both  
comfort and lure. He took it in, reveled in it, overwhelmed by the trick of fate that had brought him to this place, this moment. Brought him close enough to reveal, by word and touch, the emotions thundering through him.

"Blair." Sweet sigh, years of tension released in a long, easy breath. The sound touched Blair deep in the quiet spaces of his heart, opening doors he hadn't known were locked against him. No one had ever spoken his name in quite that way before, and he was glad, in a way that was not quite rational, that no one had ever loved him like this. Jim hadn't yet said the words, but a man like Jim didn't have to. Every word he said was a declaration, every touch a promise for the future; every act, in every way,  
confirmed the emotion shining from bright blue eyes.

Blair swallowed hard against the inane babbling that threatened to ruin the moment. He could've talked for hours about what that single word did to him, but all he allowed himself was a single word of his own. "Yeah?"

"I just...wanted to say your name. I don't say your name nearly enough." Jim's voice was just a whisper, a breath drifting warmly through strands of curling dark hair.

"I wouldn't want you to."

"You wouldn't?"

"Nah. It feels good when you _do_ say it, but only because it's so rare, you know? You start calling me Blair all the time, it won't be special anymore. Not to mention the funny looks you'd get at the station. They've probably already painted your desk pink and subscribed us to House Beautiful; they do _not_ need any more ammunition."

"You're not really worried about that, are you? The guys can be over-the-top, but--"

"I'm not worried about malice, if that's what you're asking. Not from _our_ guys, anyway. I _am_ slightly concerned about spending the next several months in a constant blush, though. I doubt Simon will _ever_ be done making fun of us."

"Simon's middle-management," Jim said, smiling again from the sound of it. "He has so few pleasures."

"Yeah, and the ones he chooses are all likely to kill him. Cigars are gonna rot his lips and his lungs, fried food will utterly destroy his arteries, and picking on me--"

"I'm not going to start beating up people who make fun of you, Sandburg," Jim interrupted in a tone that brooked no discussion. "The hours suck, there's no money in it, and I already _have_ a full time job."

Blair leaned back, grinning, and met his partner's eyes. "Who said anything about _you_?"

Jim's smile was warming, but his laughter was sheer beauty. "Okay, Chief," he said, the corners of his eyes crinkling with delight. "Just don't get arrested."

"How 'bout a compromise? You don't start flinging my first name around like you just found out what it is, and the infinitely dangerous Blair Sandburg will refrain from indulging his violent nature."

Blair had to laugh at Jim then; the look on the older man's face was a war between amusement and slightly embarrassed arousal. Jim shrugged, grinning through a blush, and pulled Blair's head back down to his chest. Oh, yeah. That reaction called for further study. No doubt. "So," Jim said, his voice just a little thick, "Why do you get to call me Jim all the time, then? They don't look at you funny because of that."

"No, they look at me funny for a ton of other reasons; that one's at the bottom of the list." Blair smiled into Jim's shirt at the chuckle that rumbled deep in his partner's chest. _Nice subject change, man, but don't think I'm gonna forget what the word  
'dangerous' does to you. I can do dangerous, Jim. I can definitely do dangerous..._ "Besides, I'm not a cop. I don't have to be all stoic and reserved; academics are expected to be friendly and casual with one another. For me to call you 'Ellison' would be like an insult."

Blair could feel Jim's frown against the top of his head. "So every time I've called you 'Sandburg', you've thought--"

"Not even." Blair pulled back, one corner of his lips tilting up. "Relax, tough guy. You're a cop, that's the way cops relate. You didn't think I was being too familiar all those times I called you by your first name, did you?"

"No..."

"That's because we understand each other. We always have."

For a moment, it looked as if the cloud was lifting. Then Jim's frown deepened all over again, and he shook his head in irritation. "Now I don't know _what_ to call you," he said, almost growling.

It was a tone that just _did_ something to Blair. His arms tightened around Jim's waist, and his eyes dropped to Jim's lips, and suddenly he'd lost all interest in the conversation. "I have an idea," Blair said, just a little breathless.

Jim's eyes widened, and Blair could feel the moment when the change in atmosphere registered. "Yeah?"

The way Jim smiled should've been illegal. Blair's tongue flicked out, moistening lips that had suddenly gone dry.

"Why don't we both just not say anything for a while?"

  
   


* * *

  
   


**  
Newton's Second Law of Motion: Law of Force and Acceleration - When an unbalanced force acts upon a body, it accelerates that body in the direction of the force. The acceleration produced is directly proportional to the force.**

  
   


* * *

  
   


That was a plan Jim could work with. Blair was looking at him again; it seemed like Jim couldn't stop noticing now the way the kid looked at him. He'd made quite a study of Blair's expressions, but these...these had to be new, didn't they? Because if those eyes had ever looked at Jim's lips in quite this way before, Jim was certain he'd have done something about it. Something not terribly romantic, that probably would've been over way too fast.

_Get a grip, Ellison,_ he lectured himself. _Breathe._

But the next breath he pulled in had way too much Blair in it, and that didn't help matters at all.

"Jim?"

_I need to answer him,_ Jim thought. But his eyes were caught in Blair's, and Blair's eyes were...oh, god. The kid was doing it again.

"If you...if you keep looking at me like that...."

"Can't help it, Jim. You are _so_ easy to look at...."

"...I won't be able to do this right." And he had to do it right, for both of them. It couldn't -- shouldn't -- be like those moments in Rafe's kitchen, desire raging so out of control neither of them could think. They'd jumped ahead there, skipping over the tough parts, drowning themselves in the easy solace of one another's bodies. This time...this time they had to enter the crucible with their eyes open. They needed to share a sentinel-level sense of the rightness of every move, and that meant...

That meant moving slow.

With infinite care, Jim raised trembling hands to Blair's face and stroked long, cool fingertips over faintly stubbled skin. "Blair....?"

Eyelids had drifted closed as Jim mapped Blair's face, and they stayed closed as a whisper-soft moan slipped from between slightly parted lips. God, those lips...Jim took a deep breath, held it until his ears rang and his lungs burned, then released it, explosively, drawing in another to bring himself back under control.

"Let's...go upstairs?" Blair's voice was tentative, and he _still_ didn't open his eyes. Jim started to wonder if maybe the kid was afraid of what he'd see. There wasn't any room for that, not here, so he waited, not quite patiently, until dusky lashes fluttered up and Blair met Jim's gaze again.

"I want you," Jim said firmly, tilting Blair's face up. "This is not a problem for me."

"I know," Blair said.

"That's not the vibe I'm getting here, Chief. What's going on with you?"

"Nothing, Jim, it's just...this is a really big deal. For me, anyway. It never really was before. I haven't been promiscuous or anything -- like I'd have time, hanging out with you -- but it just didn't _mean_ all that much before. Now it's like every move has a double meaning." Blair shook his head, frowning at himself. "I'm sorry, man. I didn't mean to get this...analytical about it."

"You're right, though. Every move does have two meanings now." Jim pulled Blair back in close, threading his fingers through dark curls and rubbing gently over taught muscles. Blair sighed softly, tilting his head back into the solid support.

Jim leaned in, and pressed his lips softly to Blair's. The touch was both gentle and electric; Jim trembled from the slow, easy force of it, and pulled back. "I want you," he said, and that was the first meaning. The one he'd noticed first, when all of this started so long ago, when just looking at Blair's mouth could make his heart speed for reasons Jim hadn't been able to accept or comprehend.

"I want you, too," Blair said. The words slipped so easily from his tongue, like he'd been saying them all his life. Like he'd been saying them to _Jim_ all his life. They were sweet, and they pushed Jim into the next step, a force like gravity drawing him back to Blair's lips for another kiss. His tongue met Blair's briefly, a promise of more to come, and he pulled back again.

This time, Jim was shaking. He could feel Blair trembling, too, with the effort to hold back long enough -- to take time enough -- to make the moment right. It was a tribute to the connection between them, Jim thought, that they both knew the way this had  
to go.

Which brought him, nervous but certain, to the second meaning.

"I love you," Jim said.

And the man in his arms stopped breathing.

  
   


* * *

  
   


"Say that again," Blair demanded when the pure shock of the words released him and let him take another breath.

"I love you."

"Again."

"I love you."

"Again?"

Jim frowned a little, and made a show of pushing Blair's hair behind his ears. "You wanna dial your hearing back up, Sandburg? Because this is gonna get old after a while."

Blair laughed, a low, delighted sound, and captured the hands in his hair with his own. "Jim!"

"Blair!" Jim was laughing now, too, and he pulled Blair back in, close against his chest. "Now that we're done with roll call..." He leaned down, avoiding Blair's mouth, and breathed deliberately into one of the ears he'd uncovered. "Let's...go upstairs?"

_Yeah, let's,_ Blair thought, a shiver chasing down his spine as Jim's lips closed softly over the lobe of his ear. "No," he said. "Not yet."

Jim stilled, and Blair could almost hear the wheels turning. "No," Jim said, as if he were trying the word out for the first time. "No?"

"No," Blair repeated. He stepped back, out of the circle of Jim's arms, and put a few paces between them. "It's almost dinner time, and I'm starved. Not to mention -- just a little -- freaked out by how good this feels. I want to breathe for a while. Take  
it all in."

"You're not ready for this."

_Oh, Jim. No._ The tone was one with which Blair was infinitely familiar; it meant Jim was shutting down, drawing his heart out of the line of fire. He'd heard it first when Jim found out just how long that expedition to Borneo would've taken, and it had  
nearly broken his heart. It had taken him days to find a way to let Jim know he was staying, that he was committed -- not just to the Sentinel project, but to the Sentinel himself, as well.

Now, he couldn't stand to let that look stay on Jim's face for another second. And after what they'd said to one another, he didn't have to.

"Jim." Blair spoke quietly but firmly, moving across the space he'd put between them and cupping Jim's face in strong, gentle hands. "You're not hearing me. I _love_ you. And I want you, so much...I don't even know how to talk about it. For two years I've  
been rationalizing it and pushing it down and sublimating it -- anything to keep it out of the way of your friendship -- until it got so strong I just couldn't fight it anymore. Are you still with me here, Jim?"

A slow nod, electric blue eyes holding Blair's with something close to desperation.

"Good. Because you have _got_ to understand where I'm coming from if we're gonna move on from here."

"You want--"

"_Yes_. Yes, I do. I want it all. Our friendship. Our partnership. Your heart. And this, too." A gentle kiss, soft, the barest touch against sensitized lips. A smile, as open and warm as he could make it. Then, meeting Jim's eyes, making sure he could see the teasing: "I just want a shower first. Maybe a sandwich. You okay with that?"

It took a moment, but the reward was worth the wait. Jim thawed by slow, gradual stages, until the cold reserve in his eyes was transmuted into a bright, melting warmth. His smile almost stopped Blair's heart; it was sweet, genuine, and just slightly abashed. The depth of love and relief in that look was stunning; Blair found himself lost, a rare moment of speechlessness.

And he found that he didn't really mind. A look like that didn't require a lot of discussion.

Blair just returned it, as best he could.

"You shower," Jim said, giving Blair a gentle shove toward the bathroom. "The sentinel will forage."

  
   


* * *

  
   


In the kitchen, alone, Jim leaned over the counter with his hands braced against the edge, and shook. He'd just managed to control it until Blair left the room, heading for the shower.

_Okay, so, you blew it. You nearly shut down on the kid, and he had to take over and bail you out. Thank god he knew what you needed, Ellison._

Not that there could've been any doubt about that; Blair always knew what to do. As a teacher, as a partner, as a friend, Blair's instincts were dead on. Jim had no business being surprised that the tendency extended into this new level of their relationship as well.

Somehow, without even being aware of it, Jim had gone from friend to lover in the past eight hours without any stops in between. He was ready for that change -- god, he'd been ready forever -- but the utter panic when Blair had pulled away... That, he hadn't been prepared for. Needing Blair was as comfortable, as familiar, as breathing. Wanting him was almost as easy, and loving him -- Jim wasn't sure how long _that_ had been going on, but it felt more like something he'd just discovered than something that had just begun. Like he'd been on that road for quite a while, and was just now noticing where it led.

Damn it, he was _supposed_ to be making dinner.

On autopilot, Jim pushed away from the counter and started pulling things out of the refrigerator and off of shelves. Plates, and the last of the roast beef. Lettuce, crisp and cold; tomato, dark red and sliced thin. Mustard, mayo, a few slices of wheat bread -- pickles, too. Blair loved dill pickles, but Jim couldn't stand them. He fished a few slices out of the jar with a fork, ignoring the smell as best he could, and arranged them neatly on Blair's plate. The kid would've laughed at the precision; Jim  
was just as glad he wasn't there to see it. He put the plates on the table, and set a cold, sweating bottle of beer beside each one.

Then he went out to the balcony to watch the last of the light fade from the western sky. He was still standing there, motionless, when Blair emerged from the shower five minutes later.

  
   


* * *

  
   


For a few seconds, Blair thought Jim had zoned. He wasn't moving -- hell, it didn't even look like he was breathing. Most of the light was gone, but Blair could see a spark in Jim's eyes, an awareness that was always missing during a zone-out.

A touch brought Jim out of whatever spell he was under, alerted him to Blair's presence and drew that smile again. Blair could live forever on that smile.

"Hey, Jim."

"Chief. Dinner's on the table."

"I saw. Thanks, man. It was my turn, I just wasn't thinking about it."

"You were a little distracted," Jim said. "I'll let it go."

Blair shivered, the night air seeping wet and chill through the thin green T-shirt he'd pulled on. His hair was still damp, and the cold reached that, too, curling locks hanging like icy rope against the back of his neck. He wrapped his arms around himself, hands clasping around his own biceps, trying to keep warm. Jim didn't seem to notice the weather; neither the bite of the wind nor the sharp, humid promise of rain were of any consequence to him. Supressing another shiver, Blair let go of his arms and  
did what he'd always wanted to do when the two of them stood out here, looking past the city and out over the bay. He took a step closer, smiling, a question in his eyes. The answer was the one he wanted; he pressed his body against Jim's, drawing on the  
larger man's solid warmth. He closed his arms around Jim's waist, and leaned on the broad chest under his cheek.

Jim's arms came up, around Blair's shoulders, and both men sighed softly in recognition. _This_ was the way it was supposed to be. Strength to strength, hearts open, willing to share.

"You're so cold," Jim said, his voice a deep, low rumble beneath Blair's ear. "Let's go in."

Blair just held him tighter, not wanting to let go. Hating the thought of letting go, when he'd just been given permission to hang on.

"It's warm inside," Jim said. "I could start a fire."

The moment was ripe for Blair to say something incredibly corny about fires already started; he resisted with great difficulty, but couldn't help grinning into Jim's shirt.

"Out with it, Sandburg. I can feel that smirk."

"You don't want to know, Jim." Blair pulled back reluctantly, a half-grin lingering on his lips. It was getting easier, more natural, to be with Jim like this.

And harder to resist being with him in other ways. He knew Jim was a little spooked by what had happened back at Rafe's; he'd been more than a little shocked himself at the insanity of those long, dangerous moments they'd spent locked together in relative  
\-- and temporary -- privacy. Desire was not a stranger to Blair, but what had blazed between them earlier had born only a passing resemblence to desire. It was more like a fever, both compounded and controlled by Jim's touch, cause and cure in one tall,  
well-built package. The blaze was banked now, but not so well-behaved that Blair couldn't feel the sparks firing through him where Jim's body touched his, and everything they had to say -- everything that had to be said _first_, anyway -- had already been shared between them.

Passion had pushed them, an irresistable force driving them past friendship, into love. They'd lost momentum, deliberately slowed the headlong rush of lips and tongues toward a completion that would've been shattering -- and inevitably empty, without the  
words that they'd only been able to say in the quiet solace of home.

There was love between them now, acknowledged and accepted.

And now, Blair could feel the fever rising in him again.

He raised his eyes to Jim's, a slow ascent over the muscled chest and corded throat, over the chiseled planes of the well-loved face -- and gasped, as Jim's gaze took fire from his own, searing him with a heat that would no longer be ignored.

"I find...that I'm not that hungry anymore, Jim," Blair said breathlessly, oxygen suddenly a precious commodity as he fought his body's instinctive response to Jim's closeness.

"That's...okay," Jim said, his voice a little rough. "We don't have to eat. We could...watch some television."

Blair nodded, his eyes shifting lower, never leaving Jim's mouth. "Catch a movie, maybe," he said. He was smiling more widely now, anticipation thrumming inside him as he leaned in.

"Maybe there's something on cable," Jim whispered against Blair's lips.

Blair's eyes closed, and his hands slid up the firm wall of Jim's chest. He was about to answer, when he realized he could no longer remember what Jim had said. "What....? I didn't...."

"Or maybe we could just go to bed," Jim said.

That Blair understood perfectly. He grabbed the back of Jim's neck and pulled himself up, capturing his partner's open mouth in a hard, purposeful kiss.

"It's a plan," he said then, pulling back almost immediately. His eyes were wide open now, and full of promise. "Lead the way."

  
   


* * *

  
   


**  
Newton's Third Law of Motion: Law of Action and Reaction - Every action or force is accompanied by an equal and opposite reaction or force.**

  
 

   


Jim took the stairs two at a time. "Don't come up yet," he tossed over his shoulder, making sure Blair had stopped at the foot of the steps. "It's not perfect yet."

"There better not be candles and roses up there, Ellison," Blair said, grinning, his hands resting on his hips.

Jim leaned over the railing, smiling in appreciation at the beautiful face tilted up to watch him. "Incense and soft lighting?"

Blair rolled his eyes, and came perilously close to snorting. "You've never lit a stick of incense in your life, Jim. You get to the count of five."

"Make it ten."

"Fine, but you better be wearing clean underwear when I get up there."

Jim pulled back, laughing, and surveyed the room quickly. Neatness was not a problem, he had that in spades. But there was only one pillow on the bed; he'd removed the other months ago, thinking as he'd done it that he was putting away any intention of ever sharing his bed again. And there was one other thing he wanted to think about, just for a second, before Blair came up.

_Where do we take this?_ He'd had time to pick up a few...necessities...between Blair's sudden departure and showing up at Rafe's. Optimistic, yeah, but now he was damn glad he'd gone ahead with it. There were probably books out there he could've bought, as well as the tube of KY (and who would've thought buying a few ounces of lubricant would make Jim Ellison blush like a schoolboy?), but he figured they were going to get clinical enough without bringing a textbook into the mix. And he had a feeling Blair would know what to do, anyway. Jim had a great deal of faith in Blair's encyclopaedic knowledge of just about everything, and this was no exception.

He put the pillow on the mattress, right next to his, and set the lubricant and condoms on his bedside table. His eyes flicked over to the night stand on the other side of the bed just for an instant, checking that everything was as he'd left it...

And then he called Blair upstairs.

  
   


* * *

  
   


"Oh, man."

Jim had to've been a Boy Scout as a kid, because he was way prepared. Fresh tube of KY on the nightstand, a box of condoms, and the sheets (smartly turned back) so fresh and crisp Blair had to wonder for a second if they'd been ironed. But no, not even Jim was that bad. He'd just made things really, really nice.

"It's okay?"

Blair's eyes flicked up and caught Jim's, surprising a shade of insecurity in his warm blue eyes. "Nothing about you, or this, is just 'okay', Jim," he said seriously, a wave of his hand encompassing the room. He was going to say more, but as he gestured, his eyes lit on the nightstand on the far side of the bed.

More importantly, on the two items carefully placed there.

The first was just a book, and maybe Blair could've convinced himself that Jim had suddenly been stricken with the urge to read about advocacy in anthropology if he'd had a few minutes to think about it. But he didn't, because the second item was a small, black, rectangular case with softly rounded edges.

The case he stored his glasses in every night before he slept.

"Oh, Jim. What-- I mean, when did you...Does this mean..." _That's it, Blair, dazzle him with your stunning conversational skills. Very cool. Open your mouth a little wider, there may be room for the other foot._ "Maybe you should just tell me what it means."

"I've been wanting to turn that room into an office for a while now," Jim said, smiling. "You gotta sleep somewhere, right?"

Blair's lips curved into a brilliant smile. "Humor at such a serious moment, Jim? I'm shocked."

"Me, too," Jim said softly. His eyes were very bright, his voice just barely a whisper. "Stay with me?"

Blair could only nod. And move closer, with his heart in his eyes, and hope that Jim could see it.

"I have no idea what I'm doing, Blair," Jim said, reaching for Blair and pulling him close. "Think you can guide me on this, too?"

"I'm not exactly an expert," Blair said, just as quiet. "My...knowledge of the subject...is mostly academic."

"Mine, too. We'll go slow, then. And talk to each other. Is that okay?"

"Yeah." It was getting hard to speak, though, around the lump in his throat. Blair swallowed, trying to find a way to communicate what he was feeling. Jim was doing what he always did, making things work out the way they were supposed to, and trusting Blair to help him. That was their way, their dynamic, and Blair was deeply glad it was working here, too. He shouldn't have been surprised -- and he wasn't, not really, not when he thought about it. There had never been anything the two of them couldn't handle together.

This wasn't going to be any exception. Blair opened a little distance between them, and stood in front of Jim, not quite touching. "We should...define some parameters, I think," he said. "I know it's not very romantic, but..."

"But we'll both feel better if we know what's going to happen before we start." Jim nodded. "Let's make the guidelines, then."

"Okay." Blair took a deep breath. "I'm...I've never...ah, hell." He was blushing. "I can't believe I'm going to say this, but I've never been with a man before. Just sign me up to write the Harlequins now."

"I haven't either, but I guess you probably knew that." Jim grinned, suddenly amused. "I have to say, though, I'm a little surprised by what you just said."

"Oh, great. That's just great. What, do I exude some aura of carnal, homoerotic experience?"

"Nah. I just never figured you'd be that familiar with the insides of Harlequin romance novels. Where've you been hiding them?"

Blair laughed, and rolled his eyes. "I'd smack you, but a macho guy like you would probably think it was foreplay."

"Okay, right, sorry." Jim wiped the last traces of humor from his expression. "We're being serious here."

"Exactly."

"Right."

"Good. So--"

"I love it when you glare at me like that. I never told you before. I love that look."

"Jim!" Geez, the man was going to kill him. Blair didn't know whether to be amused or turned on; the battle seemed pretty evenly balanced, and the mix was making him weak. "Cut it out, man," he said, shaking his head and trying not to grin. "We're not done negotiating."

"Right. Sorry. You were saying?"

"Thank you. Anyway, since we're both new at this, we should probably hold off on the hard-core stuff."

"You mean penetration."

Blair shook his head. Jim was watching him closely, eyes dancing. He looked impossibly smug, as if there'd been some contest to see who could say it first, and he'd won. "Anal intercourse," Blair clarified, nodding. Not that he needed to prove he could say it, too...but he could. God, this man...

Jim was smiling encouragement now, like Blair had done something wonderful. It suddenly occurred to Blair to wonder who was putting who at ease here, and he smiled back at Jim, utterly refusing to blush.

"Okay," Jim said, his eyes lingering for a long moment on Blair's. "We hold off on that. But someday...."

"Oh, yeah." Blair nodded yet again, a gesture he was getting used to rapidly. "Definitely, Jim. Both of us."

"Both of us." And so that was settled, but the image of Jim, naked, on his stomach, waiting...that was going to stay with Blair for quite a while. The companion image was just as arousing, Jim leaning over his back, pressing against him, whispering comfort as he...

_Oh, god._ He just couldn't think about that right now. Not if they were going to keep talking. He shoved the image away, pushing it behind a door in his mind and slamming the door shut, locking it.

And then he looked up, and he saw that image, that very one, in Jim's eyes.

And the conversation part of the evening was abruptly over.

  
   


* * *

  
   


They undressed themselves wordlessly, no awkwardness strong enough to hold them back now. Jim watched as his partner -- lover -- revealed himself. Heat poured off of Jim in waves as the body of the man he'd wanted for so long was laid bare before him. "Amazing," Jim said quietly. "You take good care of yourself."

Blair glanced up as he finished sliding his jeans and boxers off of his legs, and his mouth quirked in half a grin. He nodded his appreciation at Jim's own well-muscled form, blue eyes lingering on broad shoulders. "You set a good example."

Blair was beautiful. It was a feminine term, and not something Jim could bring himself to say to his friend, but he tried to let his eyes say it for him. Then, without conscious decision, his hands were saying it, too -- tracing the strong lines of Blair's face, ghosting over cheekbones and lightly stubbled jaw, down the throat that arched into his touch as Blair's head tilted back.

"You're so beautiful," Jim said. And winced, the words gone before he could stop them. He couldn't hold back here; apparently, it just wasn't in him to resist any praise for Blair. No matter how goofy it sounded... He closed his eyes, hoping the kid would understand, hoping it would be--

"It's okay, Jim." Blair's fingers smoothed over Jim's creased brow, easing the tension. Opening his eyes, Jim smiled at the amused, knowing grin playing around his partner's lips. "You are, too, you know. I haven't cornered the market."

Jim nodded, saying nothing. The fingers tracing over his face consumed all of his attention. There was lightning in that touch, and he leaned into it -- and found himself pressed against Blair's body, all of it, a sudden contact that startled his eyes open and ripped a gasp from deep in his chest.

"Hi," Blair said, pressing close. Jim closed his eyes again, abandoning sight for sensation. He could feel Blair's warmth everywhere: The wiry hair dusted over Blair's chest...the hard, rounded points that pushed out of it, into Jim's...the taut, warm flesh of Blair's stomach, where Jim's erection rested against it, just above Blair's...just above...

"God," he said thickly, breath coming fast and hard now, almost hyperventilating, "Blair."

"This," Blair said, just as breathless, "is very, very good."

Then he wasn't saying anything at all; he was wrapping his arms around Jim's back and pulling them together hard, slipping the fragile reins of control, a searing a promise across Jim's lips that left them both shaking. Jim couldn't think, not with the hot wetness of Blair's tongue sliding against his lips, opening them, reaching in...

A moan, soft and sweet. Jim wasn't sure who it belonged to, but it took away the last of his strength. He reached the bed just as his knees gave out, pulling Blair down with him onto the cool sheets, the kiss too deep to be broken even as they fell back together into one another's arms.

Jim shifted, felt Blair's length pressing into his hip, and threw his head back, eyes closing as a shock of pleasure ripped through him. Now, in the white-heat of a passion that blurred the distinctions between separate bodies, Jim felt himself slipping free of his inhibitions. There was no turning back from this moment, no retreat. Surrender was the only possibility, and Jim gave in to it willingly. The ease of it was dismaying, the results electric. Fire flared behind closed eyelids, and he gave himself over to Blair, a gift of love.

Jim was beyond even the desire for control. It was Blair's show now.

  
   


* * *

  
   


Jim's body arched toward him, and Blair shuddered with the effort to keep still. He needed to stay calm, or at least to fake it with some hint of sincerity; Jim was counting on him now to lead him through this. He could do it -- Blair couldn't even count the number of times he'd fantasized about it -- but now, with Jim lying beside him, eyes closed as he surrendered to a passion Blair could hardly believe was for him... Now the responsibility of it slammed home, a weight of understanding he hadn't anticipated.

Jim wanted him, and Blair had to show him how right that was. How good it could be, for both of them.

He closed his eyes, and bit down hard on his lower lip. The pain helped a little, easing him away from the precipice he'd been contemplating. Given that distance, that space to breathe, Blair pulled himself under control... and acted.

"I'm just...going to do what feels right," Blair murmured into Jim's ear. "If something...if you don't like it, or even if you do...you have to tell me. So I'll know, okay?"

For a moment it didn't look like Jim would answer him. Then there was a nod, and a smile, though Jim's eyes remained closed. "Yeah," he said quietly. "And vice versa."

"Deal," Blair said.

And went to work.

He started where he would've wanted Jim to start, with the tender spot just beneath his ear. There was something surreal about it, about kissing Jim's throat, and somehow that made it easier. With gentle hands, Blair stroked Jim's shoulders, the warm skin beneath his hands more erotic than any imagined touch could've been.

Jim trembled as Blair's hands moved, an almost imperceptible tremor as his muscles tightened with the effort to remain still. Blair smiled, knowing Jim could feel the curve of his mouth, and let his lips move lower, down the column of Jim's throat. And lower, tongue flicking over taut nipples, one and then the other, groaning when Jim gasped and shook beneath him. Strong hands twined into his hair, holding him in place, showing him what Jim wanted. Every touch, every caress, vibrated between the two of them, action and reaction twining together until Blair could no longer separate them.

With only love and instinct to guide him, Blair aroused Jim through easy, breathless stages, hands returning and returning to each point of pleasure. He reveled in Jim's gasps, a feeling of power and pride resonating in his heart with each small sound he drew from his partner's lips.

Inevitably, his hands found the source of greatest heat.

A grip like iron took Blair's shoulders and stilled him; he waited, fingers stilled against the throbbing length he held lightly, gently between them.

"Jim?"

Blue eyes on his, something dark and wild just barely leashed within them.

"Wait," Jim breathed. He pulled Blair against him, found his mouth, and opened it. Blair groaned, fingers tightening reflexively, drawing Jim's tongue into his mouth, tasting the sweetness of mint and the musk of his lover as one.

"Wait!" Jim said again, and Blair pulled back, moving his hand away. His eyes closed, shutting out the sight of his best friend, his lover, trembling with need for him.

"I'm sorry," Blair said, a silent curse on his lips as he shook his head. "Sorry, Jim...god...I didn't mean--"

"No..." Jim breathed deep, held the breath. "No," he repeated on the exhalation. "It was good. Just...too good, too fast."

"You're not ready," Blair said then, turning Jim's earlier words back on him. He'd moved too fast, done too much. "We can--"

"No!" Jim's voice was rough, but low, and he took Blair's hand and guided it back to his body. His eyes closed, and he moved his hips, a slow, deliberate surge into the circle of Blair's fingers. "Now. Please..."

Smiling, Blair allowed himself to relax, and stroked long fingers down the underside of Jim's erection. The heat of it burned into him, and he let his eyes close again, just for a moment...

Before taking his hand away.

And replacing it with his mouth.

  
   


* * *

  
   


Oh, dear god. He was...Blair was...

Jim shuddered, his hands gripping the sheets on either side of his hips, and fought to keep still. Blair's mouth was on him, on his cock, stroking him...hot and wet and firm, suction and friction together... Groaning, Jim arched helplessly upward, thrusting between Blair's lips, nearly senseless with need as Blair pressed his hips down into the mattress.

Pulling back, Blair whispered to him, breath cooling him. "You like this, Jim...? You gotta tell me, man, otherwise I might think I should stop...."

Anything but that-- "I love it, yes, please don't stop, Blair...I'm...god...so close..."

"Shhhhh...Okay, I hear you...." There was a smile in Blair's voice, and Jim wanted to see it, but he couldn't open his eyes. The moment passed, and Blair's lips closed over him again, and Jim surged into the waiting mouth...

...and hung there, suspended, his back a perfect arch...

...as he came, suddenly and explosively, the orgasm ripped from him and utterly unexpected as Blair's tongue dragged over the underside of his cock again and again, suction milking him, draining him...

...until he collapsed, boneless, beneath the breathless weight of his lover.

  
   


* * *

  
   


"Still with me, Jim?"

"No."

Blair smiled, delivering long, slow strokes with gentle hands across Jim's chest, soothing him. "Jim?"

"Mmmmhmmm?"

"You're beautiful when you come. I loved looking at you. That was...the most amazing thing I've ever seen, or felt, or heard...you made _me_ feel like the sentinel here. It was incredible. _You_ were incredible."

"Mmmm. Thanks."

"There's one thing, though..." Blair stilled his hand on Jim's abdomen, waiting, and smiled when his lover's eyes flicked open. Concern shone out of them, and Jim's arms came around him, holding him close.

"What--?"

"You're neglecting your guide."

Jim let out a breath, an explosive _whuff_ of air that was almost a laugh, and his lips curved upward. "Can't have that," he said, a wicked light replacing worry in his eyes.

Suddenly Blair found himself on his back, his legs splayed wide enough for Jim's hips to rest between them. Jim's hands were in his hair, massaging small circles into his scalp, tugging down to expose Blair's throat.

"Hope...you didn't learn that...in the army..." Blair gasped, the breath releasing on a moan as Jim's lips found the throbbing pulse point just beneath his jaw.

"Police Academy," Jim whispered into his neck, then nipped at the skin, scraping his teeth down to the curve into Blair's shoulder. "You remember the rules here, don't you, Blair?"

"I...rules?" That felt so good. Jim was following the path Blair had mapped out for him, and his lips were so soft, so warm against his skin...

"If you don't like something, you tell me." Jim touched his tongue to one of Blair's nipples, an instant of wet heat, then drew back. "And if you like it..."

"I tell you. Yeah, that...I liked that. Again. Please." Blair arched up, and was rewarded with a hard suction over his nipple, sensation like fire racing along his nerve endings. He didn't think he could get any harder, but sudden heat filled his groin, and he surged up, cock rubbing hard against Jim's stomach. That felt good, too, and he did it again, and again...

...and then Jim stilled him, chuckling softly. "Not yet, Blair. I want to take my time here, okay? Just relax..."

"Sure..." Blair's voice was strangled, his heart racing, adrenaline pouring through his system like liquid heat, but if Jim wanted time, he would try... He took a deep breath, and pressed his hips down, gasping as his cock came into contact with Jim's...

...And moaning, again, when that dark, warm heat was removed.

Jim eased to one side, and tugged at Blair's arm. He rolled onto his side, facing Jim, eager to be close... god, the man felt so _good_ in his arms, so warm, so much everything he needed...

A hand drifted down, pressed into the small of Blair's back and urged him closer. Their bodies eased into alignment, unmoving, just touching as their legs tangled together and their cocks slid back into contact. Blair shuddered, wanting to move, but Jim held him still.

And waited.

"Jim?"

The older man swallowed; Blair could hear it, where his ear pressed just beneath Jim's collarbone. "I want..." Jim paused, cleared his throat. "Can I...?"

His fingers drifted lower, a tentative exploration, and traced the cleft of Blair's buttocks. A shiver rocked Blair, the sensation maddeningly intense, and he shifted back against the hand caressing him. "Yeah...oh, yeah, Jim, you can..." He growled as the touch deepened, and again as the hand was removed. "Jim..._please_..."

"Shhhh...It's okay...." A moment later, Jim's fingers returned, cool and...

Slick.

"Oh, god, _Jim_...." Jim stroked over the opening to Blair's body, and it was good, so good, so hot...no one, but no one had ever touched Blair like that before, he'd rarely even entertained the notion, but it was incredible...he shuddered, and pressed back, and felt one finger press into him.

  
   


* * *

  
   


Blair's response tore through Jim like a gale-force wind, hot, demanding, and he answered it with a deep thrust into his lover's body. His finger slid deep, the heat wrapping around it a wicked promise of pleasures to come when they were easier with loving each other, better able to cope with the passion driving them now.

Small noises of need poured from Blair's throat, mindless whimpers as he thrust himself back against Jim's hand. Jim thrust the finger deeper, probing, and rained kisses down over his cheeks, lips, throat... every place his mouth could reach without ending the touch that gave Blair so much pleasure, Jim kissed thoroughly, deeply, incessantly...

Until a thought occurred to him, foreign, strange, but somehow deeply arousing all the same, and he stopped. Stopped all motion, his body still as if carved from marble as his mind spun, turning the thought over and over, measuring it. Weighing its promise against its strangeness, his own minor reluctance against Blair's obvious need...

And he nodded once, sharply, letting out a breath as certainty washed over him.

Yeah, he could do this. He wanted to do it, insanity to think he could've held back. "Try to relax," he whispered, words a hot whisper across Blair's skin, and he edged his body lower. "I'm...trying something new." His lips caressed the broad, flat plane of Blair's abdomen, forging across taught, quivering muscles. Gently, one hand slid down from Blair's shoulder, down his side, a light touch that drew shivering laughter.

"That...almost tickles," Blair said, keeping his promise despite his breathlessness. His voice was low, grating out past tightly clenched teeth.

"Good...or..."

"Very, very good...."

"Then hush...it's about to get better..." Swirling his tongue in the shallow well of Blair's navel, tasting sweat and heat and salt, Jim closed his eyes and balanced on the knife-edge of desire. He could do this...

He moved down further, still rocking a single finger in and out of Blair's body, stilling the motion of thrusting hips as best he could, one-handed.. That shiver came again, ('almost tickles, very good' that shiver meant, Blair had said it, so he was still okay), and Jim's fingers pressed in deeper, an easy massage. "I want to taste you now," Jim said clearly. "I won't, if--"

"No. I mean, yes, sorry, Jim, please, just..." Blair was babbling, and Jim smiled against soft skin. He liked that. God, he liked that. Blair Sandburg, for whom language was an art and a tool, an end unto itself -- reduced to inarticulate blather by Jim Ellison. His parther was thrashing, his head whipping from side to side, long hair plastered to his forehead and cheeks by a fine sheen of beaded sweat. For a reaction like this, Jim would've overthrown small nations. He could certainly survive moving his tongue...just a few inches...lower...

And turning Blair onto his stomach, lips trailing over the smooth arch of a hip, over the rounded curve of Blair's ass...into the shallow crease, and down...

He moved his hand, thrilling at Blair's moan of loss, and drew his tongue firmly across the abandoned opening, hot and hard and sudden.

It wasn't something he'd ever wanted to do, but the response it drew from both of them changed that in an instant of fire.

It wasn't anything specific, nothing concrete that turned this single flick of Jim's tongue into something deeply, shatteringly erotic.

It was the fact that he was doing it, that Blair was letting him, that they were together in this act even to such an extreme...Jim moaned excitement into the cleft of Blair's ass, and his tongue moved out to taste again -- a long, slow caress over the quivering entrance to Blair's body. Blair arched against the bed, a hiss of breath drawn past clenched teeth the only sound he could manage, and pressed back against Jim's tongue, a sudden move that Jim stilled quickly with firm hands against Blair's hips. The effort to control himself nearly destroyed Jim, and he had to stop what he was doing, and pull back, just to take a deep breath. Just to keep from taking Blair, then and there. Despite the parameters they'd agreed on, Jim wanted it, wanted Blair with a strength he could hardly battle on his own.

"Blair," he whispered, a desperate request. _Help me fight this..._

"Oh, god. Jim, please. I--"

"Shh....listen...I need you to--"

"I want you. I know we said we'd wait. I can't--"

"Wait," Jim interrupted, knowing he couldn't hear anymore and maintain the control he held so tenuously. "Wait." A whisper, while he drew a breath, and another, and backed away from the edge.

After long moments of silence, Jim found his voice again. "Sure you can. It's okay, Blair. This'll be good, I promise...." Jim closed his eyes, fighting himself, knowing it was up to him now to keep to the guidelines they'd set. He'd pushed Blair past the ability to resist, and he'd pushed himself almost as far, and the need raging between both of them was almost frightening in its intensity. He leaned down again, lost to conversation, and pressed his tongue into Blair's body.

"Jim! Oh, yeah, like that, I..." Blair was almost sobbing with need, his breath coming in long, shuddering gasps, and Jim fumbled for the lubricant again. He struggled to keep up the slow, deep stroking of his tongue into Blair's body while squeezing the smooth gel into his hand, and then tossed the tube aside.

He eased Blair up, just a little, and eased his hand beneath him, to close around the hard length of his lover's cock.

With a shout, Blair thrust into his hand, back onto his tongue...and came, his body contracting and releasing, spilling slick warmth over Jim's fingers, shaking so hard Jim was almost afraid for him.

Easily, with infinite care, Jim turned Blair over and cleaned him with a gentle tongue, the taste of his friend a salty intimacy in his mouth, wild and warm and utterly _right_.

"This is perfect," Jim said, smiling at the understatement as he gathered Blair back against his chest. "You're perfect. And you're mine, Blair...you know that, don't you?'

"As much as you're mine, Jim," Blair said, his voice soft, barely a whisper. His lips touched Jim's chest, a gentle caress, more confirmation than anything else. "Totally."

"Always?"

"Until the next buff, grouchy, sentinel offers me his heart forever, yes."

Jim laughed quietly, and pulled Blair closer. Nuzzling into his chest like a cat, Blair wrapped his arms firmly around Jim's waist and held on.

Wrapped up in each other, bodies still tangled together, their eyes closed as their pulses calmed. Jim dropped a gentle kiss on the crown of Blair's head; Blair sighed softly, pressing a return into Jim's neck.

Sleep claimed them, and neither man protested.

  
   


* * *

  
   


**  
Breakfast, Redux**

  
 

   


"Eggs in five minutes, Jim!"

Jim didn't want to move, eggs or no eggs. The sizzle of bacon -- and he knew it had to be love, because Sandburg wouldn't cook bacon for just anybody -- was constant music in his ears, and the smell of it frying wafted up into the air of the loft and mingled with everything else he could smell. His own unscented (yeah, right) soap was the first and foremost scent, since he was wearing it; a whiff of sweat, of sex; of the detergent (unscented again, as if) he used on the sheets and his clothes...

...and then there were clean, fresh Blair-smells. The ones he was most familiar with, shampoo and soap and aftershave...those were all around him, and drifting up to him as well, mingling with the aroma of breakfast, and in Jim's mind all of it melded together, a perfectly unified sensation that meant _home_.

If anything tried to spoil this perfect moment, Jim was quite sure he'd kill it and hide the body. Nothing, but nothing, was going to interfere with his day off.

"Breakfast!"

Jim loved the way Blair called upstairs to him like he was just a normal guy. None of this whispering at his sentinel ears from a block away like he was some kind of freakshow; Simon did that sometimes, and it quite frankly pissed Jim off. Blair only did it when he had to, and that was the way Jim liked it. When they weren't working, Blair tried to make Jim feel as normal and sane as anybody else -- usually by flaunting his own many and varied weirdnesses to such an extent that nobody around him could  
help feeling anything but pleasantly mundane.

Yet another reason to love him. Like Jim didn't have a list longer than his arm already.

Just as he flipped the blankets off of his body, Jim heard footsteps on the stairs. Running, bounding, two-at-a-time footsteps, and then -- _whupf_ \-- there were a hundred-sixty or so pounds of disgruntled guide sprawled over him, au natural.

"You're late for breakfast," Blair said, then kissed any hope of reply right out of Jim's head. He tasted like coffee and bacon and salt, and Jim figured there were worse ways to sample breakfast. He bent himself to the task of returning the favor of assault, flipping Blair onto his back with the move that had so delighted the kid earlier.

"Missed you," Jim said. "You were gone when I woke up."

"I'm here now," Blair answered. "And when I have to leave, I'll come back again" pressing a gentle kiss to Jim's chin "and again," and then nother to the tip of his nose "And again. And always..." Finally, a slow, sweet, lingering kiss, as thorough as any Jim had ever been given, as no one but Blair would ever give him again. "You're stuck with me, Ellison," Blair said against Jim's lips, pulling him close. "You only thought I was around a lot before. You're gonna have to have me surgically removed  
if you ever want any peace again." Blair 's warm hands rested on Jim's waist, and the embrace hovered just at the edge of seriousness -- until Blair yanked it firmly into the realm of silliness by running light, teasing fingers over Jim's ribs.

"JES-- SANDBURG! That is NOT funny!" Jim said from across the room, glaring at the convulsing figure on the bed as he struggled, mightily, not to join the laughter. The shock of being tickled had almost been too much for him, and he'd nearly levitated  
off the bed in his haste to escape the eerily pleasurable, oddly uncomfortable sensation.

"Right, Jim," Blair snickered, not even bothering to hide his amusement as he propped himself up on his elbows, laughter subsiding slowly into a low, final chuckle. "Not funny at all. Man, I could sell tickets to that show. How'd you get over there so fast?"

"I'm a highly trained individual," Jim muttered, fishing around in the top drawer of his dresser for something to wear as he tried, with no great deal of success, to feign annoyance. It'd been years, almost twenty of them, since anybody had tickled him.  
He just wasn't the kind of guy people thought would be open to that kind of thing. Heaven help him -- he was in love with a man who'd taken one look at his tough-guy image and refused right from the start to believe a single word of it. Blair Sandburg  
was going to be the death of him.

That thought ended any hope of playing the hard-ass, and brought a warm smile to Jim's lips. _God...what a way to go._

Jim shut that thought down before it could take him places he didn't want to go before breakfast. Not after skipping dinner the night before, anyway -- Blair smelled a little too much like bacon to be completely safe in Jim's bed right now. Which was just another image Jim didn't need in his head at the moment; he tuned back into Blair's chatter in self-defense. "...hell on our arrest record if the bad guys find out about this chink in your Supercop armor. I think we may have to work on desensitizing  
you. Can't you just see Wendy's news report on that one? She'd take you down, man...."

Blair was sitting on the edge of the bed now, pulling on the clothes he'd worn (for about ten minutes) the night before. He glanced up at Jim while straightening the cuff of one leg of his jeans, and his eyes darkened and gleamed at the same time. His voice trailed off; for a moment, he just looked.

Jim was suddenly aware that he was completely nude. And _still_ Blair seemed to be undressing him with his eyes.

_I'm going to love this man forever,_ Jim thought suddenly. It wasn't a new idea, but somehow it had gained solidity now. There was a power behind it, a granite certainty that made Jim feel weak and strong at the same time.

"I love you," Jim said quietly, trying to put that certainty into his voice. He knew Blair didn't doubt him, but saying the words...that was important.

And the effect was...nothing short of stunning. Blair's eyes widened almost comically, and filled with a look that nearly stopped Jim's heart. It was something like wonder, nothing like surprise, and it was combined with a smile so warm the temperature in the room increased just from proximity. "I love you, too," Blair said, his voice low and soft. He rose from the bed and moved in close, wrapping his arms around Jim's waist.

"Well, that's a relief." Jim grinned down at Blair, teasing, breaking the moment on purpose. No way was he going to be able to eat breakfast if Blair kept looking at him like that.

Blair nodded, matching Jim's grin -- and then his eyes widened. "Hey, you know, it's almost exactly twenty-four hours since I said that to you for the first time? It's kind of an anniversary thing."

"We should celebrate, then." Jim drew Blair fully against him, eyes on his lover's lips. "Mark the moment."

"Did you have something in mind?"

"Well, I--"

"Because there's this archaeology exhibit at the University Union today. It starts in about an hour and a half, and if we eat fast -- and if you get a shower, man, because right now you really need one -- we'll just make the opening." Blair went up on his toes in enthusiasm, bouncing against Jim, making it hard to think. "Jim? Hello? Earth to Ellison...Houston, we have a--"

"No, I'm here," Jim said, taking a deep breath and trying to think of something completely non-arousing. Like, say, an archaeology exhibit at nine in the morning. On his day off. "I was just thinking of something a little closer to home."

"We can be home any time," Blair answered, leaning up to plant a quick, hard kiss on Jim's lips and shoving him back toward his dresser. "That's why we call it 'home'. This exhibit, it's just for today, and who knows _when_ I'll get a chance to see it again? It won't take long, Jim, I promise, and afterward--" Blair took a deep breath, and cast his eyes up at the ceiling, "--afterward, we can eat at Wonderburger."

Oh, that had to've hurt. "You really want to go to this thing."

Blair nodded rapidly. "You'll love it."

"And I have to be there because....?"

"Because that's where I'll be," Blair tossed back with a smug grin, turning and jogging downstairs. "And you love me. Said so yourself."

Which was a kind of logic Jim was not prepared to argue with, so he just nodded, and then shook his head, and sighed a sigh of long-suffering...and then pulled on yesterday's clothes.


End file.
